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“No Family”

When I lay down,
I have no family.
They have all gone home,
to their own homes now.
And when I lay down,
they don’t come around.
The flowers bloom,
get cut,
get stemmed,
get arranged about my bed,
while I lay down
and nobody else is around,
except for my voice
in cassette tape players,
spinning the world
around and around
the fact I have no family.
When I lay down
and the priest cannot say
who I am or who I was,
I’ll know I did my best work
standing up—
but now it’s time, finally,
for me to lay down
and admit I have no family.